"RAIN", 2008, 10' x 12' x 3", ceramic, nails


“The antidote to exhaustion is whole-heartedness.”

I love that.

I don’t know the man’s name who said it but he lived his life as a monk.

Joseph Campbell said it in a different way: something like; ‘what dire disappointment should one realize that after a lifetime of climbing up the ladder, they were headed up the wrong tree altogether.’

When I think about what WHOLE-HEARTEDNESS means to me, it goes something like this:

There is a distinct difference between living a rational life and one guided by the heart.

If one is tuned toward that song, you’ll never have the luxury of being quite sure what or who will turn up.

And because you have left the door open and a light in the window for authenticity to find you and carve out it’s nest,

There is surely not too long to wait ’till the next miracle arrives..

No matter what it’s costume.

It / he/ she may be totally unrecognizable to you.

The clothes tattered or design outdated.

Rest assured there is a reason.

And take immense pleasure in the story as it unfolds.

Or don’t as the case may be.

But know your life has no taste for four walls.

Because some thing awaits.

Not of your own imagining or making.

A new thing.

An intuition, a tear, an inspiration, a recovery, some small noticing…

A life lived REAL.

And THAT right there, is what lights my fuse..

The Return

"PUSH", 2007, 14' X 14' x 12", ceramic, wood, steel





The scent of good dirt

Lifted by the red tulip

Intoxicates me.


–CA 2010

Still Waters

"BLACK FOREST", 2008, 7' x 20" x 50"h, ceramic,wood,gypsum sand


I’ve come to rest at last.

My home feels like home and I love it’s quietness, birds, cool plaster and tile surfaces.

But most of all, I love it that it seems to love me..

I set up my whole altar.

I couldn’t do it till it told me where it wanted to be.

It certainly took it’s time lookin’ around for a spot.

Funny, how after a number of years of studying non-human energies, they have made their way into my inner circle.

I actually know that without their help, there would BE no circle at all.

I know this kind of talk sounds pie-in-the-sky at best to those who have never befriended a rock.

But, I beg you.. don’t sell yourselves short.

Just watch for one to CHOOSE YOU.

Sounds silly…

Have it in your periphery consciousness that you are open to being chosen by a part of the mineral kingdom.

You don’t have to BELIEVE.

Just experiment.

Maybe when you’re walking ’round you’ll suddenly feel a slight tug to look a certain direction..

And they’re she’ll be..

Ask permission to displace her.

And see what she has to offer.

Rocks can be great protectors..warriors at the threshold of your home.

They are so dense and that very denseness can be put to use.

I get so skittish and raw in my nervous system these days that I go to them for soothing.

The more I allow NATURAL INTELLIGENCE to guide me (by that I mean the huge bundles of energy and information we’ve forgotten how to connect with like plants, creatures, moon, wind,earth), the SMOOTHER and MORE EFFECTIVE IN MY BODY AND THE WORLD I feel.

Santa Fe is a little pocket in the world in which conversations such as these are not weird or off-putting.

This town is all about tolerance; the weird, novel, innovative, naive and far-reaching.

Actually, no one really stands a chance negotiating all this upheaval now surrounding us unless we think outside the ‘life template’ we took on as true.

Be still and know.

Toss a pebble around in your pocket and just see if your day doesn’t get better…

Or maybe just different.

Good Coat

I had dinner last night with a good friend at a favorite haunt.

It was crowded and alive.

I tend toward off hours at restaurants as I can maneuver my walker better and use the time to muse and invent and create; my life as well as a carpet design of late..

My friend should give workshops in how to be a great girlfriend.

So.. we’re sitting there having a time eating chicken mole enchiladas..

My outfit for the night is one of the approximately 5-8 things in my current wardrobe.

I haven’t the stamina to think about clothes.

But I have a good coat.

It is surely one of my power tools.

It’s a medium weight cotton canvas which is finger tip length.

Good on me as I am tall.

The ‘power tool’ part of it is this:


All the colors you’d find in a garden.

I wear it when I am in good enough shape to risk attention.

Because it surely is not a neutral thing, this coat of mine.

It never ceases to amaze me how it acts as a bridge for my disability.

This is how I know design can play such an important role in equipment, lifestyle and the healthy psyches of those of us limping around on the planet.

People see my coat BEFORE the walker.

They oooohhhh and aaaahhhh and always comment.

I see that it makes them feel good to have a way to connect with me.

Rather than not addressing the elephant in the room.

Last evening, as my friend and I sat there finishing up, a good looking man passed us by on his way out the door and said as an aside “Beautiful.. both of you..”

He had been sitting at a large table of 8 people when we came in and two or three of them had exclaimed over my coat.

It seems a little thing, perhaps.

But disability carries a built in isolation.

I often don’t have the energy to connect.

Others don’t know how even if they want to.

Having a bridge such as a hat or coat or remarkable piece of jewelry can be a built in lifeline for both people involved in an exchange.

Looking good as I limp around the world helps to reframe the old paradigm of disability we all loathe; the grungy green walls and scented halls of the nursing home in your mind.

No.. a life is a precious thing.

And there is ALWAYS a way to instill it with beauty.

And find a way to invite others to participate in your precious life to the extent that YOU choose.

Win / win…

Mrs. Spencer

I remember sitting in history class taught by a very unappealingly dry Mrs. Spencer.

She was a woman in need of, shall we say, some FUN?

That class was torture for me.

I did not know it back then but my learning style needs to have LIFE of some sort attached.

If you give me just numbers and dates and a test, you will be sorely disappointed.

Last night, I finished watching the JOHN ADAMS HBO series.

The subject of hidden disabilities interests me.

As a short segue, I recently completed a public speaking course.

At the close of it, a man approached me who many considered the heckler of the group.

His displays of inappropriate commenting were tiresome at best.

What he said to me was this:

“You have a very visible disability. I have diabetes which is not apparent to others.

There is a good chance I will need my leg amputated.

I am no longer afraid since I met you and heard you speak.”

Now, this floored me…

First, because I had my opinions about him and they were pretty well set.

Second, my heart cracked open at the covert vulnerability this man gifted me with which was all covered up with bravado.

Our John Adams was an unspectacular specimen to look at.

He lacked grace in dealing with the French hotties at their fancy displays of pomp and sensual forays into pleasure-seeking frivolity.

He was scorned by his compatriots for a relentless and void-of-humor mission to corral feisty egos into a manageable and purposeful government.

He abandoned his children for the cause and asked his magnificent wife, Abigail, to test her patience beyond any human capacity for most.

And yet..

We are here, now..

Here, within the flawed but radiantly inclusive and foundationally inspired bedrock of the United States of America.

Mrs. Spencer’s disability was her inability to translate life to us, her students.

Likely, because she hadn’t touched it yet..

My disability is MS in it’s very visible ransacking of a vital and graceful physical self.

John Adams’ disability was his lack of the ‘cool factor.’

He HAD to be coarse and insistent and relentless to be heard through the din of the common denominators which ruled the day.

He tried the patience of many.

I see that my disability allows a very different kind of ‘listening’ from people I am in contact with.

I take this very seriously.

I could easily give you whining and complaint.

The religion of the wounded.

A sense of belonging, yes, but communion.. no.

This very disability has ushered me into a life so full and rich that it would make Mrs. Spencer’s toes curl from the intimacy and humility of it all.

LIFE! Raw and trying and rugged and always the new thing asking for it’s place in the car.

How much can we bear?

How much can we lose?

How do we know what is there, behind the things we lose?

Until we lose them?

Our Undoing

detail of drawing, 1979


There was a great comment sent to me yesterday on this blog:

“MS is my undoing, at times.”

I know the spirit in which that was sent ’cause ‘been there, felt that..’

She meant that MS can get the upper hand and sneak in a couple jabs to the most sensitive part of us and take us down.

Sneakily.. slimily…

Then walk away and leave us there to deal.

Because my mind tends toward finding the flicker of life in there, somewhere, I wonder if our ‘undoing’ isn’t precisely the point?

What if DOING isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?

Maybe, for those of us so entangled in the mire of the American dream, we need to be taken down..

With a fierce jab to the kidney.

Clock some time on the gritty ground.

And get our sights retooled.

Toward something that means something.

That has nothing to do with doing.

Inner Violence

Each time my health takes a turn..

Doesn’t matter which direction:

Feelin’ great! or… Oh, God.. make this stop….

Each time I change into something different than I was, I think I AM THAT THING FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Where is that intellectual enchantment I know and love that has me know the solace of the in-between?


The opposite of this inner violent state feels like I imagine it is when one gets off the plane after landing in Hawaii (ain’t been there yet..)

You walk off the aircraft and smooth, heavy, juicy air makes way for you to pass.

Someone with an unlined face respectfully offers to lay a garland of impossibly crimson and white scented flowers around your neck and gifts you with soft eyes and a slight bow as she retreats to let the gifts work their way into your blistered soul.

I am dry from this war.

A friend has a great saying: “Look without knowing and see what you see.” -Erich Schiffmann

It is that pesky KNOWING thing that gets me in trouble.

Having a ‘die-off’ reaction from a new medication?

Giant leap into the disability chasm…

Better not count on much of anything (plans,fun,projects,LIFE ITSELF!)..

‘Cause you’re goin’ DOWN..


I wake up with color in my cheeks and I can walk much better and my joints don’t ache and I look beautiful to myself in the mirror.

Not an ounce of that previous experience was permanent but I had it written in stone in my war chest.

I exhaust myself.

Dark Knight

untitled monoprint, 22" x 30", 1992


Reality check for Cath:

“Dear Cathy,

You are dealing with a formidable foe. Winning or losing is not the game. Your deeply and acutely tuned nervous system cries out for peace. Space. Time to heal. What does that mean? No more ping-ponging back and forth toward the seduction of an old and familiar life of the artist as she was. No.. she must be utterly self reliant where she can and innocently open to assistance and seek it like a heat-sensitive torpedo. Get your mind OUT OF THE FUTURE and OUT OF THE PAST and INTO THIS HEARTBREAKINGLY PRECIOUS MOMENT, dear Cathy.


All That Is”


A friend told me she had read an interesting idea that three core elements which give rise to a fertile landscape for love to grow are these:


I have been thinking about this and it feels right and good in my book.

Love mean a number of things to me.

Really, it FEELS a myriad of ways.

I am blessed to have so very much of it in my life.

The people I enjoy being around the most have independent and fulfilling lives.

They tend to be creative and have a high tolerance for depth in thinking and feeling.

Their circle feels complete and mine does as well.

There is no desire or inclination or tolerance for COMPLETING them in any way.

We, two separate and vital spheres, meet , and at that precious and miraculous and mysterious meeting place, stuff happens..

Or it doesn’t as the case may be.

When it does, that feels like love to me.

The song is ALWAYS different which makes for interesting theater.

When I am MET in this way, there is no drain or lessening or WORK involved.

It feels easy and enlivening and rich and wide.

Rare, in my experience, to be sure, but I am experiencing this much more often of late.

But then again, I just became REAL pretty recently so it makes sense I missed the boat a few million times because I had a leaden weight around my ankle.

The thing is, it takes TWO to meet in this way.


A figure eight.

I think about what is it really, that gave me the stamina on all levels to make it to the place I am today?

I somehow KNEW that THE RIGHT TO BE is our birthright.

Just to BE WHO WE ARE.

But we must grab it.

Reach long and wide ’til you think you’re gonna fall off the galloping horse as you grab the ring.

Then take a few years; 5 or 10 or 20…

And sink into the peace of no pretense or mask making.

The utter simplicity of just BEING.

And just watch what shows up..


detail of ceramic sculpture installation, raku


Friday night in Santa Fe.

Single girl wants some entertainment.

And so..

What does she do?

Hightails it out to the mailbox.

And there..there it is!

The red NETFLIX envelope, praise be…!

She opens it and squeals.



In all seriousness, if you have not seen two garden variety snails mating accompanied by opera, you have not LIVED.

This is the BEST nature DVD I have ever seen, bar none.

The photography is magnificent and soundtrack elegantly and sometimes humorously but always perfectly synced to the activity on the screen.

Want a good escape that tugs at your secret musings concerning whether there really is a God?

Without drugs?

Get this.

Shadow Night

In my new home the nights are velvet.

Dark and deep and I am unfamiliar with their palette as yet..

I want to be out in it.

But sleep is my main medicine these days.

I am so very tired.

Each time I tackle some giant stress-generating task like moving or installing an artwork or traveling or some big thing..

It takes me to my knees.

Each time a little lower..

Till I’m where I am now; down there squinting for the light.

I’ve been accused or championed for continuing to take the high road in my life.

The nay-sayers are all about reminding me I might be skipping the reality of things and too in love with hope.

My supporters are inspired by my ‘never-say-die’ attitude.

Yes, I am a warrior.

My landscape is not as black and white as one finds in the daylight.

For me, the shadows have become alive with the small songs of other intelligence.

Mysterious and skittish by nature, the inhabitants are more than benign.

They hold my hand in the night and drink my tears.

They squeal in almost inaudible delight as at last I turn my face to God.

And quit traveling alone.

I’m not making this stuff up..

My dog sees them when I can’t and looks longingly into a bare corner and wags her tail.

How often do we see nothing?

When there is surely something?

Parking Guy

detail ceramic sculpture


I bought the parking

Guy a chocolate chip cookie.

His rheumy eyes cleared.
– CA 2010 March

My New Home

"TERRITORY" 6' x 5', 1985, wool flannel and pigment


Joseph Campbell once said that in looking back over his long life, he saw that the chapters opened up with such perfection in their support of his life well lived.

It is 1:00 in the morning here in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

A snowstorm left a foot of new and sparkling whiteness in the night outside my front door.

My dog is snoring.

The walls are a pale shade of fleshy-pink structolite plaster.

I walked ten feet from my bed to the kitchen to make tea and another 5 feet to the computer.

The quiet in the night is luxurious and heavy with the snow.

It’s warm and I am perfectly content.

I love my new home.

It interested me that I heard few comments from friends helping me move about how great this place is.

I started doubting it myself.. suggestible as I am at times of big newness and the insecurities that go with that.

I wondered if people thought I’d feel deprived going from a larger and very hip place to this little retreat?

Did they feel sorry for me because of it’s size and my having let go of so much stuff to make this move?

Were they worried about my well being with new and unfamiliar obstacles to navigate?

The me that sits here tonight writing is one very content woman.

I am bored by stuff.

Anything ‘extra’ doesn’t belong in my new life.

I have already made mistakes in choosing some things I needed for this place.

Since this is an ESSENTIAL spot, meaning each and every THING I invite in must serve me well and not detract in any way from my task at hand which is healing, I see I’ve already made choices from the old Cathy, not the new girl.

It is sssssssooooooo obvious when I choose incorrectly.

And isn’t that GREAT?

I am being gentle with myself and putting that pesky judge to bed and choosing again.

Easy. No fuss.

And now, into this good night I go.. back to bed to sleep and dream of the gifts I am giving myself of beauty and space and light and birds outside and a big brick porch to entertain those I love and a good and uneven unpaved road and the luxury of feeling safe and warm and grateful for the skills I have learned to follow where I am prompted to go and go there needing no agreement.

Night, night…


Power Tool For Change # 6 – “REFRAME SECURITY”

Many of my previously count-on-able sources of security are gone or going.

Financial resources, my ability to move my body quickly and with ease, the stamina to create large works of art, a twenty five year art career, a home I owned and goals I thought I was committed to but aren’t anymore.

I am new.

Infantile, even.

Not in the weak and helpless sense but more like I’m planted in a new garden and don’t want to sully the naive and tender sprouts with old paradigms and false needs or desires.

These waters I’m swimming in are surely unfamiliar but I sense a gathering archive I might call something like: ‘the right to right action.’

What does that mean??

Not entirely sure yet but the start of it goes something like this:

If you know some life-stuff isn’t working..MAKE SPACE for a new thing to occur.

In that space watch for/feel for what prompting comes.

Example: I needed to find a place to live in two weeks time.

I FELT what I wanted/needed which was: small, bright,safe,affordable,elegant,simple,quiet and life-affirming.

After I sent that very literal vibe out there and asked for assistance from Spirit and friends, the return message settled into my bones that it was on it’s way.

I still worried.

But I ACTED by doing every darn thing I could think of to help the process along.

I am intrigued by the results returning to me from watching this pattern of: INTEND, ACT, ALLOW.

It’s VERY different than a wish and a prayer and leave it at that.

Been doing that half-assed poking into the ethers and waiting for results for a LONG time.

No, this is different.

A conscious KNOWING is the part that was missing.

The question mark is: how did I actually get to that knowing part?

I don’t have the answer but this thing is happening often enough that I know I’m getting warm.

If I have to depend on some sort of exterior-generated sense of security, I lose right off the bat.

So, I gotta figure this out.. follow the musky and skittish scent to the center point and say my peace..

Say my peace… yeah, that’s it.

Power Tool For Change #5- “RESILIENCE”

detail of painting, 1995, m/m


The actual dimensions of the painting pictured above measure 6′ x 30″.

I used a nail head and dull pencil point and a chopstick to make all the indentations.

There are thousands upon thousands of them.

People ask me how I ever had the patience to create such a thing; just standing there making little marks over and over for weeks.

The action of creating this particular piece was decidedly one of the most profound creative experiences I have had.

It was the practice of truly being in the moment as I made each mark and then, as I brought the tool up and away from the surface, to make the decision as to where the next mark would go.

This was happening so fast at times that there was no time to think; just intuit what wanted to happen next.

Other times I decided consciously what needed to happen; change the tool, spread out the marks, introduce an ordered effect or abandon a row altogether.

I see this piece as a good example of living well.

Make a mark.

Do I like it? Does it serve me? Others? Make it again.

Or: make a mark.

Feels wrong.

Make another one to balance out the wrong one.

Sort of like:

Fall down.

Get up, if you can.

Or call someone.

Maybe crawl to a better view.

Lie there and enjoy the scenery.

Or make a stab at getting vertical.

The point is: victimhood happens within non-action.

Many years ago, the TURTLE chose me as my animal totem.

I wanted something cooler.

Like an eagle or hawk.


Cath got the turtle.

Well, I just decided to surrender to the thing and see what there was for me to learn.

Turns out, my turtle is the desert dwelling, big, giant, old survivor kind.

She’s been around awhile and knows about keeping on keeping on..

She has the gravity of lessons learned without forsaking her vulnerability.

She carries her home with her and takes her time as she enjoys the view.

Every territory is interesting territory to her.

She remains curious and that is the key.

Power Tool For Change #4 – “PRAYER”

"GIRL" , ceramic, steel, 24" x 5


I have a friend who is in the hospital having surgery today.

I am praying for him, his physicians and his family.

When I chose this photograph to complement my writing today, I did it because of the sense of REACH in the sculpture.

Her neck is yearning toward distant pastures..

But is that really prayer?

Is it the action of going outside ourselves for something?

I’m just asking, here, because it’s interesting territory and I watch myself continually going elsewhere for the blessings of GRACE.

I do know from my own experience, that we, humans, are not the be-all-end-all.

We think we are and that is dangerous at best.

For my friend, I want legions of angels and archangels whispering in the ears of his weary doctors and all the detritus of the mundane world OUT of that room as he rests in a state of uncomplicated willingness to allow the invasion happening to him.

I pray for his ease of recovery and for the results he desires to be forthcoming.

Is this life-experience all our own illusion?

I don’t really know.

What I do know is that I need help along this path.

And when I am pure of heart (meaning asking from a non-ego position), assistance is there for me.

It often comes in a decidedly different costume than I had imagined.

But with time on it, I see that my own intelligence could carry me only so far and the gift of it was a few steps further.

Like the health challenges I swim in these days..

Who would’ve thought up this screwy plan to make me stop and undertake this graduate course in refining my life into a package authentically reflective of me?

And yet.. my prayers have always centered around the desire to BECOME REAL.

So, who’s to know?

Today, I pray for peace and healing for my friend.

Whatever that looks like.

Power Tool For Change #3 – “TRIBE”

"TRIBE", 2003, 24" x 5" x 7", ceramic,steel,wood


My friends are my gold.

The fact that these particular humans are in my sphere is my greatest achievement.

I invite people into my life for a variety of reasons but the foundation is respect.

Oh yeah.. and the fact I don’t have to (or want to) edit myself with them.

Over this past week as I moved, they have shown up for me in ways that have opened my heart multi-fold.

Cleaning, restaurant-going, listening, driving, dog walking, cleaning some more, packing, laughing, crying..the whole shebang.

I ask myself: “What did I do to deserve this wealth?”

The answer seems to be that I BECAME REAL.

Only then could they find me.

Only then could I recognize them.

When you choose change or it just happens willy-nilly without invitation, make darn sure you don’t do it alone.

My tribe is patient with me.

They know that asking for help is tough for me.

But they keep telling me that f I don’t get the hang of it soon, we ALL lose.

Funny, the adage that it is really the GIVER of service who receives the most in return seems to be spot on..

I don’t know.. the coffers of my heart are darn nigh spilling over..

Power Tool For Change #2- “THE VACUUM”

Within the intensity of this schoolroom of moving to a new home, I am tested and thrown to my knees (literally).

Last night, as I got up to let my dog out, I fell.

Nothing damaged and I am fine but I speak with more authority this morning as I talk about what needs to happen in my life to keep living, essentially.

Not just that, but to thrive while doing so.

Today, we’ll visit THE VACUUM.

Here’s a story:

A good friend is smack in the middle of a divorce following years of what seemed a solid and vital partnership.

She has good taste and found herself test driving a yellow mercedes convertible.

Every cell in her body was thanking her for the wind in her hair and the identity-enhancement of the whole thing..

It was blessed peace to be transported to something ELSE..

The point here, is that the filling up and shifting into anything OTHER THAN the subject at hand will turn around and bite you.

If my wise friend had allowed herself to write a check for that yellow panacea, she’d be LESS THAN, not MORE.

She would have filled her very emptiness with an attention-grabbing experience that would have left her soul dry and hungry at some point.

Closer to home, in my own personal experience, my nervous system is overloaded with the worry and concern regarding the progression of the weakness in my body.

An antidote to the overload is an emptying out of EVERYTHING THAT IS NOT SERVING ME IN SOME WAY.



Funny, how downsizing allows a manageable peek into what is stealing energy.

You take what works and leave the rest.

Turns out, I actually need very little.

PEACE OF MIND is my goal as the efforts toward healing cannot happen in any other garden, no matter how sexy or fast or yellow.

How much can you take away before you lose the essence of a thing?

The power is in the laying down of what used to be called ‘The American Dream’ and the active waiting for what wants to be taken up.

This is hard-going, this segueing into the truth of authentic need and desire.

It looks funny and awkward to others and may be unpopular at best.

But people will watch you out of the corner of their eye and see the shift you are making toward a very palpable peace.

Shake It Up

"HORIZON LINE", 1996, 6' x 4', m/m


Forever enchanted with new horizons, I tend toward what might look like a life steeped in insecurity.

I often hanker after a hundred year-old porch swing on a veranda attached to a family-held estate with kids playing bad clarinet and an old yellow lab keeping my feet warm.

But that’s another life….

Certainly not this one.

Recently, I completed a seminar in public speaking for professionals.

One of my homework assignments included creating a 7 minute talk which would be videotaped.

The topic I chose was CHANGE.

Not just change, but how to thrive (or just be ok) within it.

This past month has brought the sale of my home, two weeks to find a new place to live, packing and the physical and emotional tumult that goes along with all that multiplied by 10 as my nervous system tried to keep it’s fragile boundaries intact.

I was so out of it that I totally forgot my own advice I had presented in the seminar.

For the next few days here, on my blog, I’d like to take some time to remind myself and share with you some of the key points I came up with regarding THRIVING IN THE FACE OF CHANGE.

The first of these I call POINT OF VIEW.

Here’s an example:

Cathy moves into a little doll’s house of an apartment.

She chooses it because it is filled with light and it feels like a safe retreat for her to do some needed healing.

In her health challenge, the value system she holds keeps changing.

Right now, her need for light and security and an energetic sense of support prompt the choice of this postage stamp sized home.

Here, she sits amidst boxes and gritty floors from the movers and no dog door for the chihuahua, Olivia, and passageways only just accommodating her walker.

This is a great place but she is mired in self-doubt in her exhaustion.

Possibility is a far-away country at this point.

She is challenged and starts to spiral down.. and down..


Hold on a second, here.

Wasn’t there hope and inspiration and clarity and an eagerness to meet the unfamiliarity of the place just a day or two ago?

And isn’t she a resilient and creative human being intent on adventure and opening to new territory?

And isn’t there light pouring through the bay window and a dog curled at her back; peaceful in the midst of all this chaos?

I’m not professing any pithy new age aphorisms that leave one cold and empty of a good reality check.

Shifting ones’ point of view is extremely good medicine if you happen to find living well an attractive concept.

Can’t walk today? Lost your job? Burned the dinner?

Cry a bit if you must then remember all we can count on is change and enjoy the time in

It is at times like these that I hobble to the mirror and put on my favorite pink lipstick, blot my lips and begin again..

Usually works every time.

I’m pretty sure tomorrow is in the not too distant future.

It’s all in your point of view..